


Love Is A Weapon

by Iverna



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: AU, Action, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iverna/pseuds/Iverna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Belle figures out that Rumple holds Killian’s heart, Emma is determined to get it back and save her pirate. Unfortunately, going up against the Dark One is anything but easy, especially when he holds the heart of someone you love...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a terrible lovely heartbreaking post by sheriffswan on Tumblr - thanks for letting me write it!

_"You take the most beautiful thing in the world, love, and you turn it into a weapon."_

_\- Anna of Arendelle_

 

*  *  *

 

Emma skidded to a halt in the elevator, bracing herself against the iron bars at the back. She was still turning around to demand what was taking everyone so long when David and Elsa joined her. Belle stayed put, already reaching for the controls. She looked distraught, her eyes red and her cheeks wet, but her chin was raised and she gave Emma a nod before shutting the door. With a shudder, the rickety contraption began its descent.

Emma used the time to catch her breath and double-check her gun. Beside her, David stood ready, sword in hand, jaw set in familiar determination. She couldn’t help thinking back to her first time using this death trap, when Regina had lowered her down to fight Maleficent. She’d been the one to carry David’s sword, back then.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

And here she was once again, with a life hanging in the balance. Once again, with Gold’s betrayal making her heart pound and her fists itch.

She gripped her gun. He was not taking Killian from her. He was _not_.

“Do we have a plan?” Elsa asked.

David let out a tense breath. “We don’t even know what we’re up against.”

“Killian, for one,” Emma said, relieved when her voice came out almost steady. “Gold has his heart, so he can control him. We need to be ready for that.”

“If it comes to that, I’ll hold him off,” David told her. “You two just concentrate on getting his heart back.”

“Right.” Emma pressed her lips together, looked up at him again. She didn’t like the idea of that duel, not one bit, but David was a skilled swordsman and Killian didn’t have magic to give him an advantage. And she liked the other options she’d come up with even less. This entire situation was one hell of a mess. “Just... be careful.”

“Always,” he assured her. The lift came to a ponderous stop, and David heaved the door open. “I—”

Elsa looked worried. “What’s _that_?”

Now that the noise of the elevator had died down, Emma heard it, too: thumping and banging not too far away, echoing along the tunnel, punctuated by the occasional shriek.

“Guess Belle was right about Maleficent,” Elsa commented.

“They’re trying to trap her in the hat.” David shook his head. “I never thought I’d try to save _her_ life, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

 _You never forget your first._ Emma’s heart gave a painful little lurch. She clenched her jaw and nodded. “Come on.”

With the sounds of the battle raging up ahead covering any noise they themselves made, they jogged along the tunnel, Emma leading the way.

When she reached the cavern entrance, she stopped, gesturing for the others to do likewise. Gold stood directly ahead of her, focused up towards Maleficent in her dragon form. She was twisting and turning mid-air, caught in what looked like a net made of golden and purple light. In contrast, Gold was completely still. He had an object in each hand – his right held the Dark One’s dagger aloft, his left was closed around a stocky cylinder that Emma recognised from Belle’s description. The hat. Belle had been right. He was trying to send Maleficent into the hat.

And – Emma’s eyes landed on a small chest at Gold’s feet. It was open, and something lay within it, something that glowed with a ruby-red light. Killian’s heart.

Killian himself was on the ground, bloodied and bruised but still moving. He was in the process of levering himself up on his arms, grimacing and twisting his neck to glare up first at the dragon, then at Gold. Emma almost took a step back when she saw his expression, which was nothing short of murderous.

A sentiment they could agree on.

Gold lowered the dagger and switched his attention to the hat-cylinder, and Emma reacted on instinct. “Gold!” she yelled, and stepped out into the cavern.

 

*  *  *

 

At first, Killian thought he’d imagined the voice, but as he whipped his head towards the sound, his eyes confirmed it. If he’d still had his heart, it would have sunk down to his toes. “No,” he breathed. What the bloody hell did she think she was _doing_?

“Ah, Miss Swan,” Gold called out, still focused on Maleficent. “And the cavalry, if I’m not mistaken. So good of you to join us. That’s your cue, Captain.”

Killian’s eyes were still on Emma, who stood firm, looking as determined and fierce as he’d ever seen her. Normally, the sight would have filled him with pride, but all he felt now was dread. There was no compulsion, not yet, but the crocodile clearly had no interest in being distracted by a fight with the Saviour. He’d make Killian do it, and this time there would be no play-acting, no putting on a show the way he had for Cora, no pretending to be knocked out of the fight.

And if he didn’t kill her, she would be here to watch when Gold crushed his heart.

“Go to hell,” he ground out.

“Oh no, I’m afraid that’s _your_ fate,” Gold said, finally turning away from the dragon that Killian had lured into his magical net, satisfied that she wasn’t going anywhere. He tucked his dagger away and reached down to retrieve Killian’s heart. “But you have a job to do first.”

Killian got to his feet, his body moving without his command and against his will, the sensation of being controlled making his gut churn with the wrongness of it all. He drew his sword and strode towards Emma, every step pounding in his ears. _No, no, no..._

David stepped in front of his daughter, sword raised. “You’ll have to go through me.”

Something that almost felt like relief flooded through him. The prince was a fair swordsman, by all accounts. He’d have a chance. Maybe he’d even win, and hopefully have enough sense to kill Killian before Gold could use his heart for his thrice-cursed spell.

He looked David in the eye, trying to apologise even as he felt his lips curl into a sneer. “Then that’s what I’ll do.”

David nodded. “You’ll try.”

Killian lunged forward, a blow that David caught easily. The clash of metal rang in his ears, and his blood began to hum with the thrill of battle. David stayed defensive, and Killian used hook and sword to drive him back, trying to fight his way through to Emma.

She’d used the distraction to move, he noted, trying to circle around to Gold. He wanted to warn her, to yell at her, tell her to run and get out of here, but he couldn’t turn his attention away from the battle. Besides which, he knew better than to think Emma Swan would run from a fight, hopeless as this one was.

David launched a counterattack, and Killian parried it with practiced movements, feet shuffling on the uneven ground.

“Sorry, dearie,” Gold said somewhere behind him, and Killian spared another glance at Emma. She seemed to be stuck in place, held there by magic no doubt. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to interfere.”

“Stop it, Gold!” Emma yelled. “You’re insane! Do you know what you’re doing? Belle’s upstairs crying her eyes out because—”

“That’s not your concern,” Gold bit out. “I _have_ to do this.”

There was another clash as Killian caught David’s sword in his hook, almost wresting it from the other man’s grip. A stupid error; the prince was just as distracted by Gold and Emma as Killian was, but he didn’t have that sickening compulsion in his chest that kept him fighting no matter what. Killian brought his own sword up. David twisted out of the way, but not before the blade connected. Fabric ripped, and a line of blood welled up on the prince’s arm.

Killian choked back a sob.

_No, no, no._

Light flashed to his left as Emma and Elsa’s magic clashed with Gold’s, but Killian didn’t stop to watch the show. He pressed his advantage, driving David further back even as the dread inside him filled his limbs and his gut and the terrible, empty place in his chest. And he knew, right then, that if David didn’t manage to rally his wits and his strength somehow, he was going to kill him.

The light turned golden, and he realised that Gold had thrown the hat onto the ground, ready to draw Maleficent into it.

“ _Stop!_ ” Emma yelled. “I don’t want a fight. Do what you want with the dagger, but let Killian go!”

“Oh no, I’m afraid _Killian_ ,” Gold’s voice curled around the name with a sneer, “is an important asset. In fact, this is his big moment.”

Killian’s chest exploded with pain, making him stagger, his sword dropping to the ground mid-parry as he clutched at the spot where his heart had been.

“Hook!” David reached out to steady him. Black spots danced at the edges of Killian’s vision, but he could still see Emma, frozen in place a few meters away.

She was whirling around towards him, eyes wide. “Killian...!”

He heard an echo of his own voice in hers, that same note of desperation that he remembered from that cursed day on the _Jolly Roger_ when he’d last seen the Dark One crush a heart. He caught sight of Gold standing a little further away, fingers curled around his heart, hatred twisting his face, and he realised that this was it. No hero’s death for him, no brave last stand or blaze of glory, just one last act of betrayal. One last broken promise.

His chest hurt like blazes, twisting his features, and he curled forward, instinctively trying to protect the injured part of his body. He struggled to draw breath past the pain, his lungs feeling as if they were on fire.

It was nothing compared to the look on Emma’s face. She looked horrified, shaking her head as she stared at him, a silent plea in her eyes.

_I can’t lose you too._

It was going to break her heart, he knew that now. He’d thought that he couldn’t regret his deal more than he had already, but he’d been wrong. He’d been scared of losing her, selfishly worried that her feelings for him were not that strong, but he’d been wrong, and it made everything ten times worse. Gold had taken his greatest wish and turned it into a nightmare. Because she cared, and he’d been there. He’d been standing right where she stood now, unable to move, unable to do a damn thing except watch.

He should never have gone near her. He should never have tried to prove to her that he meant it, that he cared. Promises, nothing but promises, and all of them about to be broken.

He wanted to say he was sorry, tell her how much he loved her, but he knew that he didn’t have much breath left, and he would not spend it on that. Milah’s last words had haunted him for centuries, fuelled his thirst for vengeance. He could see the spark of it in Emma’s eyes now, that darkness threatening to overtake her, and he would not, could not, let it.

“Don’t,” he forced out, his vision growing darker. Something hummed in his ears, growing steadily louder, and he could barely hear himself speak. But he kept his eyes on Emma’s, and he tried to put everything he still felt into that look, knowing that she could read it. She’d always been able to read him. There was only one thing he needed her to _hear_. He’d let her down, broken his word, failed again, but he could still do one thing right. His legacy would not be one of revenge and darkness. Not for her. “No vengeance. Swan.”

The world tried to slip away from him. He fought to hold onto it, but the darkness was creeping into him now, the noise in his ears reaching a crescendo. But he could still hear Emma’s voice above it, panicked and fearful.

“ _No!_ ”

He wanted to reassure her, tell her that it was okay, but the pain was taking over all of his senses, and he couldn’t get any more words out.


	2. Chapter 2

_"Oh, you foolish girl. Don't you know? Love is weakness."_

_\- Cora, Queen of Hearts_

 

*  *  *

 

“No vengeance.” Killian’s voice was hoarse and breathless, the words sounding like he was having to force them from his throat. “Swan.”

Emma’s heart was beating double time, had been ever since she’d seen Gold hold Killian’s in his hand and begin to squeeze. The pirate’s yell of pain had cut through her concentration, her magic dissipating as she focused on Killian. Pain was written all over his face, in every movement, but he barely seemed to be conscious of it as he looked at her. He blamed himself for this, she knew; she could see the guilt and unspoken apologies in the wrecked look on his face, the broken look of a man who thought he’d failed.

And she knew what he meant. It was in his voice, his words, his face. This was goodbye. He was going to die, and he knew it.

His eyes never left hers, and she could see what was written there, too.

_I love you._

He staggered, still clutching at his chest, and she watched as his eyes began to lose their focus.

“ _No!_ ”

She barely recognised the voice as hers as she whirled back around to face Gold. The Dark One was looking at Killian, a malicious sneer on his face as his hand gripped the pirate’s heart. A slow death, Emma knew. He’d won, and he would take his time to enjoy it.

Desperation gripped her, hollow and terrifying, like a gaping pit inside her. She couldn’t lose Killian. Not now. Not ever.

He’d _promised_.

He _loved_ her.

She’d refused to think that, to know it, but the thought was no longer followed by immediate doubt like it had been before. She knew, now, that she was worth loving, and able to love in return.

A voice whispered that it was too late – _again, too late again, just like Graham, just like –_

She shoved that thought away, focused on another.

_I love you._

Her magic rose up inside her, wild and strong and dark and joyous, surging through her like electricity. She’d lost control of it before, the threat to Killian distracting her, but she was beyond worry now, her magic responding to the riot of emotions in her chest. It pushed at her insides, wanting to break free.

And for the first time, instead of pushing it back down or just letting it do what it would, Emma reached back and seized it.

There was no time to think, no time to recall Regina’s lessons or her own experiences. And she _knew_ , right then, that there was no choice. Killian was not going to die. Gold couldn’t have him.

Her blood thundered in her ears, her vision taking on the familiar sharpness of battle, her mind in tactical mode, analysing and strategising. The world narrowed until all that was left was Emma and her goal, everything else simply an obstacle. It felt _clean_ , like she’d cleared away all the debris and chaos inside of her.

She turned her attention on Killian’s heart, still glowing faintly in Gold’s hands.

There was a burst of light as her magic once again glowed around her. It shot out towards Gold and enveloped his hand—

And to her own amazement, Gold’s brow furrowed. She saw the muscles in his hand work, felt a dull pressure in her chest, but she pushed back instinctively, and it eased.

She recognised the feel of it. She’d felt it before, by Lake Nostos, when Cora had tried to take her heart. It had been a brief flash then, pure instinct driving her. This was different, more distant and drawn-out, but it was the same warmth in her chest, the same strength flooding through her.

She could _feel_ Killian’s heart now, beating faintly as her magic coiled around it, white light edged with rainbow colours. She could feel Gold’s fingers around it, too, trying to crush it into dust, but her magic held him at bay. It felt like walking through water against a current, the effort of it making her breathless. She gritted her teeth and tasted copper, felt something warm run down the inside of her nose. But the light stayed, and the heart kept beating.

Gold glared at her, but she thought she saw a glimmer of fear in his eyes too. “No,” he said, sounded both surprised and outraged. “No. I will have this. _I will have this._ You will not take this from me!”

Emma braced herself as he waved his hand, trying to knock her off her feet. But he no longer had the dagger in his hand, and she was ready for him. Her magic pulsed, deflecting his, and then Elsa was by her side and an icy blue whirlwind danced between them. It resolved into a familiar snow monster, which stomped towards Gold.

It was no match for the Dark One, of course. Gold took an involuntary step backwards before collecting himself and snapping his fingers. The monster crumbled and disappeared in a white flurry, and Gold turned to Elsa, sending her flying backwards with a flick of his wrist.

Emma shot him.

The bullet hit his shoulder and knocked him back, his other hand automatically reaching for the wound. Killian’s heart fell to the ground. Emma was already running, sparing a glance for Maleficent. If she timed it right...

She’d never created a magical net before, but breaking something was never as hard as making it. Gold had recovered by the time she reached him, but he was focused on her now, not on his little trap. Emma sent a burst of her own magic at it, and felt the magical equivalent of a rope give way as Maleficent broke free with an enraged shriek.

“No!” Gold’s head whipped around, eyes wide as he stared at the dragon swooping towards him.

Emma didn’t wait to see what happened next. She grabbed the heart and turned to see Elsa, hands already raised. When she glanced over her shoulder, she saw an ice wall reaching halfway to the ceiling of the cavern and growing fast.

“It won’t hold them for long!” Elsa yelled over the sound of crackling ice and the now-muffled roars of the dragon.

Emma was already moving, running back towards the cavern entrance. She tugged at Elsa’s arm as she passed her. “Come on!”

David was still where she’d last seen him, holding Killian up. The pirate looked like he was out of it, his face pale and his eyes shut, his good arm slung over David’s shoulder.

“Killian!”

“He’s alive.” David’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Emma. “You okay? You’re bleeding.”

“What?” She followed his eyes with her hand, tucking her gun away and swiping at her nose. Her hand came away bloodied, but she couldn’t feel anything. “Fine, yeah—”

Another shriek sounded behind her, followed by a crash. David gave Killian a nudge and tried to steer him toward the cavern entrance. “Hook? Hey, buddy, come on, we gotta go.”

Killian grunted and blinked, looking dazed even as he stumbled along beside David. “What—no!” His eyes widened as he became aware of what was happening. “You need to get out of here, you have to leave me—”

“Not a chance.”

“No, no—!” Killian tried to twist out of David’s grip.

Two strides brought Emma to his side, her free hand reaching for his sleeve. “It’s okay, we got your—”

Another crash sounded behind them, louder and longer this time, and Emma didn’t need to turn to know that Elsa’s ice wall was collapsing.

They had to leave _now_.

“Wait!” She came to a stop just inside the tunnel, aware of David and Killian doing the same. Elsa almost ran into her, and Emma grabbed her arm.

She’d never tried a transportation spell on anything bigger than a coffee cup, but once again, there was no time. Failure was not an option. They’d never even make it to the elevator before Gold cut them off, and there was no time, no time.

No choice.

She squeezed her eyes shut and _reached_.

 

*  *  *

 

Killian’s head was still spinning, the after-effects of pain and adrenaline making him dizzy, but the desperate fear that gripped him eased the moment Emma reached for him.

She’d done it. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t need her to finish her sentence before he understood. She’d saved him.

David kept him upright and moving until Emma bade them stop, urgency in her voice. Killian braced himself for another attack, looking around a little blearily, but it never came. Instead, there was a flash of light so bright he had to shut his eyes, and then silence.

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing in the loft, still leaning on David. To his right, he saw Emma just blinking her eyes open, her expression telling him that she’d just surprised herself again. Behind her, he could see her mother leaning against the kitchen island, baby Graham in her arms.

The silence lasted another beat. It was broken by Snow’s concerned demands and David’s reassuring voice, but Killian barely heard them. He was looking at Emma, at the smear of blood beneath her nose, her widened eyes, her pale face.

They spoke at the same time.

“Swan, are you—”

“You okay?”

She reached for him, and he stumbled forward as they all but fell into each other. He curled his arm around her shoulders, pressed his hook into the curve of her back, and she buried her face against his neck with a slightly shaky sigh. One of her arms wrapped around his neck, the other was still tucked protectively against her chest, and he could feel it: the faint pulse of a heartbeat, echoing in the hollow spot inside him.

His heart. She was holding his heart in her hand, and he was safe, alive, a traitor no more. He clung to her like a drowning man and her hand reached around to cradle his head, and he wanted to sink to his knees.

“Emma,” he said, hearing his voice break. “Emma.”

She hugged him a little tighter. “Don’t you ever do that again. That was way too close.”

He heard the relief in her voice, felt it in the way she was holding onto him, and it almost broke him. “I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry.”

After another moment, she pulled away, although her free hand drifted down to take his as if she couldn’t quite bear to let him go. “Wait, Belle—”

“I called her, she’s on her way here,” David said. He’d moved away from them to join Snow, and Killian felt a fresh wave of remorse when he saw that the princess had handed the baby to Elsa and was looking after a cut on David’s arm.

A cut he’d inflicted. Killian opened his mouth to apologise, but Snow spoke before he could.

 “Regina’s still not answering.” Concern was written all over her face as she looked from Emma to Killian. “I don’t know who else to ask about hearts.”

“Right.” Emma looked down, her hand moving – reluctantly, Killian thought – as she uncurled her fingers, and there was his heart, glowing red in her palm. He didn’t want to look at it, didn’t want to remember how it had looked in the crocodile’s hand – _just like Milah’s, red and bright and gone in an instant—_

“It’s glowing brighter again,” Emma said. “That’s good, right?”

Snow craned her neck to look, and nodded. “Yeah. That’s how they’re supposed to look. I mean, I think so, I don’t really know, I’ve only seen mine and David’s...” She shook her head, clearly unwilling to dwell on the subject. “Well, and Regina’s, but hers is darker anyway.” She shot them a small smile. “Evil Queen and all, you know.”

The implications of that were not lost on Killian, and he swallowed, sparing another glance at his – _red, it was definitely bright red_ – heart. “Are you sure it’s mine? After what I did—”

“Later,” Emma cut him off. “One problem at a time, okay?”

She’d put some of it together already, he saw. How, he wasn’t sure, but he should have expected it. She was rather talented at putting together clues.

And still, she’d come to save him.  He swallowed. “Aye.”

 “Good,” Emma said. “Okay. So. The heart. How do we put it back?”

Snow looked uncertain, but drew herself up with another smile. “Well, it can’t be that hard. I’ve seen Regina do it. You just kind of push it in.”

“Oh, sure.” Emma shook her head, her voice taking on that matter-of-fact tone that said she was trying not to lose her mind at the “fairytale stuff”. “Just _kind of push_ a guy’s heart back into his chest, why not?”

“You just stopped the Dark One from crushing it,” David reminded her.

“Aye.” Killian squeezed her hand. “You can do it. Please?”

She looked doubtful. “You sure? Regina is a lot better at this stuff than I am.”

“She excels at taking hearts, less so at returning them.” He offered her a smile. “Besides, there’s no one I trust with mine more than you.”

Emma’s eyes widened briefly and she got that look on her face, the one that told him he’d said too much. But before he could try to deflect it a little, she said, “All right, if you’re sure.”

 “Aye. I’m sure.”

She hesitated for another moment, then lifted his heart up to his chest, leaning it lightly against the right spot. He felt it beating, a distant echo in his chest. On impulse, he reached up to wrap his hand around her wrist, and nodded at her.

She nodded back and visibly braced herself. He barely heard her next words, muttered under her breath. “Son of a bitch.”

Then she _pushed_.

There was no pain, but it felt strange, having something moving through his chest. It felt both lighter and heavier, full in a way that he’d missed. Emotions flooded through him, stealing his breath, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the guilt and relief and hope and fear that threatened to overwhelm him.

“You okay? Killian!”

He gasped in a breath and opened his eyes, and saw her. Really _saw_ her again, in the way that made his stomach flip and his mouth curve into a smile. “Aye,” he said. He knew that he’d have to answer for what he’d done, but the hopelessness that had weighed him down these past few days was gone. He’d made amends for his mistakes before. He’d do it again, whatever it took. “Better than okay, truth be told.”

She laid her hand on his chest, hesitant but apparently needing to feel his heart beat. “It worked.”

“That it did.” Killian closed his eyes, took a deep breath, looked at her again. Her eyes shone, her expression somewhere between worry and relief, and his chest felt too small to contain his heart now. “Thank you.”

“Sure.” She smiled, but sobered again almost straight away. “I’d say ‘any time’, but I _really_ don’t want to have to do that again. What the hell _happened_?”

He’d expected to feel dread, or fear, or guilt. But as he leaned back against the kitchen table and began to talk, he felt only more relief at finally coming clean. He’d carried this secret for too long. It was over. One way or another, it was finally over.

He was free.


	3. Chapter 3

_"Love is a weapon, dearie, always has been. It's just that so few people know how to wield it."_

_\- Rumplestiltskin_

  
 

*  *  *

 

_  
_He told them the whole sordid story in a low voice that spoke more of his shame than his words did. Emma stayed silent, knowing that if she said one word, more would pour out, asking and demanding and berating. She wanted to know the whole story first.

But by the time he wound down, she couldn’t hold back anymore. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

She couldn’t keep the anger out of her voice.

“I had no proof.” Killian sounded half-defensive and half-defeated, and she wasn’t sure which she hated more. “In fact, Gold manipulated matters so he had proof of my culpability in the whole sorry affair—”

“You could have told me that, too! You really think I’d take _his_ word over yours, you think I’d believe him?”

She felt her jaw clench. “I thought you trusted me.”

That got to him, and she was glad to see his eyes flash at her. “Of course I trust you.”

“Not with the truth, apparently.”

“That’s not—” He shook his head. “That’s not it. I was afraid.”

“Because you didn’t trust me to believe you,” she insisted.

He said nothing, but she could see him acknowledge it anyway. He wouldn’t say it, especially not with everyone else around, but they both knew she was right.

“Why did you make a deal with him anyway?” she asked. “I get wanting your hand back, I do, but you should know better than to make a deal with Gold.”

“I was desperate.” He shook his head. “I thought—I was sure I had the upper hand. I was overconfident, and I just wanted...” He trailed off, shook his head again. “I wanted to be a better man, Swan. To be worthy of you, to—”

“You _what?!_ ” Her sudden outburst made Snow jump, but Emma didn’t care. “You really think I care about that?”

He met her eyes without flinching, never one to back down, and a part of her was glad to see it. Anything was better than the broken defeat from earlier; she never wanted to see him like that again. “Don’t you?”

She stared at him, momentarily lost for words, just shaking her head.

Killian’s chin came up; he was clearly striving for calm, but she could see the storm in those blue eyes, poker face or no. “As I recall, you said as much before. Wasn’t that why you didn’t want me along to find Zelena?”

That gave her pause. She remembered that day, of course, and she remembered not wanting Killian along, but she was pretty sure that she hadn’t said why. At least, not the real reason why.

But with a sinking feeling in her gut, she remembered making a comment about his having one hand. She’d wanted to keep him at bay, keep him safe, maybe even insult him to the point where he’d give up and stop _caring_ so damn much. It hadn’t worked, because it was Killian and these things never worked, but apparently she’d managed to score a bigger hit than she’d realised.

A sick feeling spread through her stomach. She’d hurt him. And he _still_ hadn’t given up on her.

But on the other hand—

“You really think I think like that?” she demanded. “Really? What kind of person do you think I am?”

Killian’s expression didn’t change, but she saw his jaw clench. He said nothing, apparently at a loss for once, and for a moment they just looked at each other.

They still had an audience, Emma remembered. And conversation was rapidly edging into personal territory, which was probably why Killian’s lips were forming that stubborn line while his eyes told her that he had a million things to say.

 “Never mind. Let’s just—” She blew out a breath.

“Maybe we can agree that making deals with Gold is a bad idea,” Snow suggested in her best diplomat voice, and Emma remembered her own deal with Gold with a little guilty stab in her chest.

“Yeah.”

“Aye.”

David chuckled. “Don’t sound too enthusiastic, kids.”

They both shot him a glare, which only made him laugh more. But he sobered again as he looked at Killian. “And for the record,” he said, “from now on, if you get into trouble, _tell us_.”

Killian looked uncomfortable, but tried to play it off with a shrug and a smile. “It was my mess to clean up, mate.”

“And you were doing a great job when we got there,” Emma couldn’t resist saying, a little snidely.

“The _point_ is,” David said, raising his voice and shooting her a look, “we help each other. You’ve saved our lives before, and it works both ways, otherwise it doesn’t work at all.”

Killian gave him a long, measuring look, then he nodded. “Aye. Thank you.” He glanced at David’s arm. “I’m sincerely sorry about that, by the way.”

“I’ve had worse. But I gotta say...” David smiled ruefully. “You’re a hell of a swordsman.”

Killian raised one eyebrow. “Not so bad yourself.”

And that seemed to be the end of that. But Emma knew that for her, at least, the subject was far from finished. Much as she hated the cliché, they really needed to talk.

 

*  *  *

 

Killian stayed for a cup of tea and to help clear up a few things, still reeling a little from the unexpected turn of events. They’d believed him. He was a pirate, he’d lied to them, cheated them, and even locked Snow and Emma in a cell – and they believed him.

Emma was still mad at him, he could tell, but she hadn’t stormed off or kicked him out as he’d feared she would. He wasn’t entirely sure why. But his chest was still warm with hope, no matter how often he called himself a fool for it.

He left before dinner, turning down the invitation to stay with a smile and the knowledge that he could not sit down to dinner with Emma Swan at the moment.

Snow hugged him before he left. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Ah... thank you, milady.” This time, he said the title with sincerity, and she smiled like she really meant it, too.

He walked back to his quarters with a new lightness to his steps. He picked up his pace, stopping just short of running lest anyone should think there was a new crisis brewing. By the time he reached the B&B, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and when he ran into Granny in the hallway he greeted her with a bow and his most extravagant compliment yet.

“Rent’s still the same,” was all she said, looking at him over the top of her glasses.

“And I shall pay it gladly,” he assured her, and meant it. Only a few hours ago, he’d been sure that he’d never pay rent again, and for the worst of reasons.

Granny shook her head, as always – the woman could _not_ accept a compliment, which was why Killian went out of his way to give her as many as he could. “What’s gotten into you?”

“What indeed?” He grinned, bowed again, and made his way up to his room. It looked the same as always; he’d even left a shirt lying on the bed, unable to care about tidiness this morning. He’d debated packing everything, maybe leaving a note, but in the end, he hadn’t. Emma might have figured it out on her own – she was certainly perceptive enough – but something in him had rebelled at the thought of flat-out telling her about his impending demise. It had felt too much like giving up.

He went to dinner, enjoying the taste of food more than he’d been able to for the past while, feeling a little strange to be doing something so ordinary after the day’s events. He complimented Granny’s cooking, she all but glared at him for it, Ruby laughed at them both... like always.

The only shadow over it all was Emma.

He was used to that feeling, the knowledge that something stood between them, the uncertainty. For a brief, blissful time, it had been fading, back when she’d let him hold her after her ordeal in the ice cave and told him she worried about him and asked him to dinner. But it was back now, and he had a heart to feel it with, and for all that it was familiar he found that he still did not like it one bit.

He’d expected her to be angry. He just hadn’t expected her to be angry about things like his lack of faith in her.

He wished he knew whether that was a hopeful sign, or a bad one.

He wished she was here.

He wished he’d never believed that he could outwit the crocodile.

He was just finishing dessert – apple pie with vanilla ice cream, because cursed if he was going to let the Snow Queen put him off one of this realm’s greatest delights – when he heard her voice.

“Hey.”

She’d come up behind him, moving to stand next to the booth, hand trailing over the table. “Mind if I join you?”

He gestured to the seat across from him. “I’d be honoured.”

She slid into the seat, shaking her head at Ruby with a smile when she caught her eye. “Killian, we really need to talk.”

“I know.” He pushed the last bite of his dessert around the plate in a vain effort to capture it, gave up, and used his hook to trap it before scooping it up. “Perhaps we could take a walk.”

She hesitated. “Can’t we just go upstairs? I don’t feel much like walking after all the running I’ve done today.”

That was a surprise, but he cautiously counted it as a good sign that she was willing to be alone – really alone – with him. “Of course.”

His room had one chair, which he offered Emma before sitting down on the foot of his bed. She stayed standing, though, shifting from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

He was about to suggest that walk again, but she spoke before he could. “Killian.” She sounded sure, as if she’d given herself a mental kick. “You know this—” she gestured “—this, with you and me, us—it can’t work if you don’t trust me.”

Of all the things he’d expected her to say, this was nowhere near the first. “I trust you—”

“No, you don’t,” she cut him off. “Because if you did, you would have told me and trusted me to believe you.” She did claim the chair then, leaning towards him. “Look, I get it. I think. I haven’t exactly given you reasons to. I just kind of assumed you did, because I trust you.”

He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Her face gave nothing away, either. For a moment, she looked down, and when her eyes met his again, she looked – of all the things – uncertain.

“Do you think you can?”

He wasn’t sure he understood. “Of course, love.”

“Really?” she challenged. “Because I mean it, Killian, this can’t work if you don’t. It has to go both ways. And you’ve got to let me help you if you want to help me. I can’t—” She shook her head. “I can’t do it any other way.”

He had to ask. “Is _that_ what bothers you? Not the deal, the lies, the—”

She waved that away impatiently. “You made a mistake. I made one too, remember? I trusted him. I almost walked right into that hat.”

His stomach clenched at the memory, the desperation tensing every muscle as he strained against his bonds, the fear almost choking him. “You believed he’d changed.”

“I was desperate,” she corrected him. “But that’s not the point. Look, I know we’re not—this isn’t perfect. And trust doesn’t just happen overnight, I know that, but you almost got yourself _killed_ over this. All because you didn’t trust me enough to tell me and let me help—no,” she corrected herself, “because you thought that having two hands makes you a better man, or that that’s what _I_ want.”

She looked more upset than angry now, and the words kept coming. “I mean, is that really what you think, that I care about that?”

“No, no.” Killian wasn’t sure what he was referring to, it was more of a reaction than an answer. He made to reach for her hand, checked himself, scratched at his ear instead. “No, love, I just...” He wanted to explain and found that he couldn’t, couldn’t find the words. “I was scared, that’s all. I wanted to tell you, I was just scared I’d lose you—”

She moved, and for a moment he thought she was going to storm out of the room, but then her hand touched his cheek and she leaned down, and he felt her lips on his and forgot to breathe.

She kissed with insistence, pushing against him until she stood between his legs, her hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He slid his hooked arm around her waist, his hand reaching up to tangle in her hair because he couldn’t help himself, could never help himself.

After a moment, she pulled away a little. “Don’t _ever_ do that again.”

“Which part?”

Her eyes narrowed. “All of it.”

“As you wish.”

She kissed him again. He deepened it, tongue delving into her mouth, revelling in the way he could _feel_ her touch all the way down to his toes again. His heart pounded against his breastbone, and he felt _whole_ in a way he hadn’t in centuries.

Emma’s hand wandered down his chest, slipping under his shirt, and he tried to pull her closer. She stumbled when her knees hit the bed, falling against him with a breathless laugh. His apology stuck in his throat when she moved closer still, onto his lap, kneeling with one leg on either side of him.

He was sure that there were still a dozen things he’d wanted to say or ask, but he’d forgotten half of them, and the other half were currently being answered, more or less. At Emma’s prompting, he shucked his jacket while she concentrated on the buttons of his waistcoat before turning her attention to his shirt. He felt like he’d left the rational part of his mind behind somewhere, unable to think of anything but Emma – her lips on his, her hands stroking over his skin, her body pressed against him. It was too much, but he didn’t, couldn’t care; he wanted more.

He looked into her eyes, dark and wide over flushed cheeks, and surrendered.

 

*  *  *

 

After, when they lay tangled on his bed, her head on his shoulder and his arm curled around her waist, he closed his eyes and tried to figure out _what_ he was feeling.

Emma interrupted his thoughts, her voice quiet, lazy. “Do you ever take it off?”

He looked down. Her fingers were tracing the curve of his hook, her touch so light he hadn’t noticed. He couldn’t see her face, but she only sounded curious, and he’d had enough of secrets and lies. “Most nights,” he said. “When I’m sure I won’t need it.” He hesitated, then smiled. “That’s not counting the times when some _people_ I could mention tamper with it.”

She laughed softly. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.”

“I can take it off if it bothers you.”

Her hand wandered over the brace to his arm. “It doesn’t. Never has. You know that.”

He swallowed. “Aye.”

She was silent for a moment. “Killian, I want you to promise me something.” She turned in his arms, propped herself up so she could look at him. Her hair was a gloriously tangled mess, falling around her face and onto his chest, and he couldn’t help smiling at the sight. At her, _here_ , with him, like this...

“Anything, love.”

“Don’t ever change for me,” she said. “Especially not for what you _think_ I want.” She paused, firmed her lips like she did when she was unsure whether or not to say what was on her mind. But she went on, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t _want_... if I didn’t want to be.”

It wasn’t exactly what she’d meant to say, he knew, but it was more than enough for now. He wasn’t sure he could handle any kind of declaration from her right now. His heart felt too full as it was. “You have my word.”

“Good.” She leaned over to kiss him again before curling back into his side, her hand running over his chest.

He lay back, silent, marvelling at how she felt in his arms. He wanted it for so long that he’d become used to it, and now that she was here, it almost didn’t feel real.

Emma spoke again, hand over his heart. “How does it feel?”

A good question, he thought, trying to come up with the words to describe it. He took a deep breath. “Like coming up for air. Like I can see again.” He caught her hand with his hook, bringing it up so he could kiss her knuckles. “Like meeting you.”

“Charmer.” But she said it lightly, with something that sounded so much like fondness that he _had_ to turn his head and press a kiss into her hair, too.

“How did you do it?” he asked. “I felt him trying to crush it. You stopped him.”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, the movement made awkward by her position. “I just... did. I don’t know. I saw what he was doing and I just had to stop him. I don’t know how. It’s something to ask Regina about, I guess.”

“You think she’ll know?”

“Well, she knows plenty about taking hearts,” Emma said wryly. “If anyone knows how to stop it, it’d be her.”

“A reasonable assumption.” He mulled the matter over for a moment. “I have a theory.”

“Hmm?”

“Cora tried to take your heart once,” he said. “You stopped her. Perhaps that’s what this was, too.”

“It felt similar,” she admitted. “Except that was _my_ heart. Some kind of... in-built Saviour protection, or something. I didn’t think I could use it to protect others.”

He smiled. “Perhaps it’s because my heart belongs to you, too.”

She stilled, and for a moment, he thought he’d said too much again. Damn it, but it was hard to keep it all in, especially now that he could feel everything again and his emotions were still running rampant.

But all she said was, “hmm.”

And she moved, pulling him closer for another kiss, and he _knew_ , even if she didn’t say it.

They were all right. He was all right. He didn’t need his hand to love her, after all. He just needed his heart.

And that was safe in her keeping.


End file.
